Lanterns Glow; Shadows Flow
This was definitely one of the rainiest weeks Applejack had ever seen. Ever since she'd left for New Jockey and then backtracked to Cajún, the weather ponies had been bringing nothing but downpour to combat the usually sunny weather. It was summer of course, and she reckoned the pegasi got a lot of complaints about the heat getting to them and their crops. Perhaps the weather was a little scorching; Appleloosa was looking a little drier than usual and even the swamps of Cajún were unusually humid. The weather ponies orchestrated a herd of sprinkling stratus clouds at the start of Tuesday when Applejack finally had enough apple-related products loaded down in the cart. She let Applebloom come with, but only because she would have cried otherwise. Applejack didn't mind the company of her little sister anyways.
One of the lesser secrets about Applejack was the rain, and walking in it. No matter what kind of day she was having; if it was raining, she could cool down outside. Most other ponies couldn't understand why she'd stand out there for hours and risk a cold or just plain freezing. Her friends and family--the really close ones--understood her. Applejack could never explain it well enough; personally hearing the hymn of the raindrops on soft earth and feeling their wet drops in her mane always took a load off her shoulders. So when she'd made it clear that she was intending to walk the whole way to Cajún, Applebloom only smiled and put on one of those umbrella hat thingies the fillies were wearing nowadays.
The sky was blotted out by cumulus clouds by the time the barn became a barely visible speck in the distance. True to her secret pleasures, Applejack was calm as they began the trip down a specific dirt road leading away from the farm. Her passenger, carefully seated in front of all the apple goods, chatted about her ventures with her friends in that cute little group of theirs. She talked about the new accomplishments she'd made with her fellow CMC members, and Applejack felt a soft pulse of pride ebb into the peace she was feeling. The little filly behind her could have been an adult, what with all the feats she'd done. She was really something special, and she was proud to be apart of it.
"Sis?"
Blinking out of her thoughts, the mare smiled lazily. "Yeah, sugarcube?"
"I think I kin see why you lahk the rain so much. " She observed,and she proved the point by letting the sound of it fill the air. The static, unending drone of zillions upon zillions of water droplets hitting Equus was music to anyone who cared to listen. "It's really nice to hear and its pretty too."
"Naht much ta look at right now I reckon, but I see yer point. " Applejack had scrutinized the packed cumulus clouds in the sky, making everything darker when the light cast its shadow over Equus. It's beauty overall didn't change; this just left more to the imagination. "It's a mighty fine thing, that's for sure. "
Applebloom nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and it gives me a new perspective on life the more I look at it. Like, you can be the most stuck up pony and hate nature all you want...but rain is always something special to look at. No matter who ya are. It's meant to clean away all the dirty things and give water to thirsty ponies and critters.”
Applejack hummed in agreement with her sister, but nothing more. Nothing to be said in this type of weather--it just proved Applebloom’s point even more. The two traveled on in calm silence, ears adjusted to nature’s white noise. Eventually, they came a sharp right curve in the road that seemed almost horizontal. It seemed to diverge from the original road by leading straight ahead, into a seemingly giant forest with shadowed innards and a thin mist floating in and out of it. A small, half-rotten wooden fence sat in the abandoned road. In bold red letters, it read
DO NOT ENTER
Just as Applejack started her way around the huge forest via the new road, she received a small prod at her lower back. “Sis, why don’t you use that road?”
The orange mare smirked back at her. “Because the sign says not to enter.”
The filly huffed. “No, I mean...what do you think is bad about the forest?”
Trotting along, Applejack stared at the inner gloom of the forest. She herself wasn’t worried about it--she even thought it would cut her time and walking distance in half--it was just that Granny Smith always urged her not to go in and she’d wanted to respect her odd wishes. “Nothing is, in mah opinion. I don’t think th’ myths are true, anyhow.”
“Myths?” The filly tilted her head.
“Yes, about missing ponies that wandered in that there forest some thousand years or so ago. Before then, a whole Village of ponies lived in there, until one day they supposedly died one by one. Like th’ forest swallowed ‘em up.” Mildly surprised, Applejack wore an intrigued expression. “Granny never told you anything about this place?”
Thunder boomed, but it was too far in the distance to jar either of them. “Nah. I don’t think anyone at school’s heard about that either. “ There was a long draw of silence, filled by the static sound of rain. “It's probably just something to scare fillies like than me, yeah?”
“Maybe. But I like listening to Granny, and taking a longer route in this beautiful weather is fine by me.” Applejack glanced back at Applebloom. “Fine by you, lil’ sis?”
“Heh! Fine by me!” The small filly nodded in agreement.
Applejack carried on with her trotting, pulling the cart along with ease thanks to the calming nature of her surroundings. But the forest would always be in her peripheral vision; the corner of her eyes, as if waiting to be noticed again. It piqued her curiosity all the more, wondering why it was deemed such a bad place if it was a small forest in reality. Small forests couldn't get any pony lost for centuries on end. Just a bucket of hogwash.
Applejack continued on to Cajún.
________________________
The trip back had them fated to encounter harsher rains and louder thunder that ripped across a sky of black. The cumulus clouds had long since tripled their size, given the time they had to grow because of the weather ponies. Now they were cumulonimbus; touring giants of condensed water that lay stacked upon each other and squeezed out waterfalls with their own weight. Where there was once a little light to see in the days before, Applejack had to be given a flimsy old pole with a bright Lantern to help her see in pitch darkness. It swayed on the end of it like a pendulum, a grim flame bobbing to and fro in the the ink of night. The muddy path was illuminated brightly by the fire’s glow, but Applejack was still very careful in making steps. Any part of the road could sink in under the disguise of stable mud and the almost empty cart would be stuck in it. The mare turned this way and that to avoid possible problems, while her fur fought heavily with the weight of the water soaking into it. The earth pony occasionally had to stop and shake herself dry to cut down the force needed to move her body.
“Maybe y’should have bought your own umbrella hat, Sis!” A voice giggled from behind her. “Sure would be good for ya right about now.”
Applejack scoffed at her. “You kiddin’? This hats kept mah head dry in worse!” That was partly true; it worked back then, but now the old thing couldn't even keep her hair from being moist. “I don't need any fancy, schmancy umbrella hat like you.”
She could almost hear Applebloom rolling her eyes. “Aw, come on! It's nothing special. Its--”
A particularly loud crack of thunder rattled Applejack’s bones and, for a portion of a second, lit up the world around them in a pale light. She froze more out of brief shock than fear and flinched as the rain seemed to pound down harder on their heads. She craned her head around to look at Applebloom, who was huddled at the far corner of her vision. “Y’all good back there, sugar cube?”
“Y-Yeah! Why wouldn't I be?” Her little sister was quick to announce. “ It’s just a little thunder. That’s all. “
“Heh. I reckon it’s a little more rain too.”
Applejack didn’t mind being out here for the whole trip back, but she didn't want Applebloom to be out here the same length of time. Grown as she was, she was still a young filly and young fillies didn't have the same immune system as adults. She’d hate to be the cause of a cold or pneumonia for Applebloom. There had to be some way of shortening the distance, or at least cutting down the amount of rainfall on their heads.
As Applejack looked ahead in deep thought, her eyes roused her out of her notions and ideas. About fifteen hooves ahead of them was a fork in the road, small as it was, that had the left road leading down the regular path. There was a large shape on the regular path, and a lightning flash revealed it to be a downed tree. The right road led into the forest Granny had warned them about. A strange gate made of rotten old wood stood in the way of the road into the forest. A beaten, abused sign with withered letters read:
Enter Not.
“Enter not? That sounds like mighty old talk.” Applebloom piped up behind her before she apparently took notice of the fallen tree. “What we gonna do now, sis? Go around it?”
Applejack chewed the inside of her cheek in thought and slowed to a halt before the two roads. She could probably make the trip over or around the fallen tree, but it would take a great deal of time. Not to mention the area around the tree was probably muddier than everywhere else, because of the amount of water trickling from the tree. If they got the cart stuck in the mud, then who knows how long they could be out in this weather.
Applejack glanced skeptically at the decrepit gate. Granny had warned her not to go in, but that was years ago and was probably just a ploy to scare her as a filly. Plus, it would be better to walk in the company of trees; towering giants that could block most of the downpour with their leaves. They’d still be wet, but it would be less wet than now and the light of the lantern was still bright enough to illuminate the road. She’d just follow it down until they came out the other end of the forest.
“Ah think,” The mare made her point by gesturing to the weary fence. “We should go this way.”
She could see Applebloom staring within the dark depths of the forest from the corner of her eye. She might have shuddered, but it might have been the rain distorting her peripheral. “Granny Smith wouldn't like you doin’ this. You told me she said--”
Applejack nodded. “I know, I know. But we could get home a heckuva lot faster if we follow this here path through the forest. That tree will slow us down by a lot, and I don't need you catching your death out here, let alone me.”
The filly looked into the forest again. “...I don’t know, Sis.”
She figured there’d be a little resistance to the notion, so Applejack cocked an eyebrow at her. “Aw, don’t tell me ya gone weasel on me.”
“No! Of course not!” Was the offended bleat, before it quieted again. “I’m just sayin’...suppose all the stories she told you was true. This wouldn’t be a good idea then, would it?”
“Applebloom...You know there’s nothing to fear.” The earth pony lowered her voice as well, soothing and inspiring. “Especially not with your big sister right here in front of ya. We’ll be alright.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced, but she looked like an inch away from caving in. When she sighed, the filly looked past her to the gate. “Well, there’s a gate right there. We can’t just burst in.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised that old thing is still standing given the rain and all.” She sauntered right up to it and gave it a good shove with one of her hooves, expecting it to crumble into dust. Instead, the crusted wood only cracked and then swung open on rusted hinges. The sound stabbed her ears, but it thankfully stopped as soon as the gate was open enough. “Huh. If some pony wanted us to stay out, they shoulda locked it.”
“Maybe they were in a hurry,” Her passenger suggested.
“Heh. Whatever for, sugar cube?”
Applejack gazed into the unknown depths of the blackened forest and then at the mud road, the lantern illuminating it just enough. She titled the pole upwards to adjust the light and observed the trees with interest. Maidenhair trees, with their cone shaped bodies and gnarly branches, surrounded the road on both sides. Most of them were so widely grown that their branches bent over the road as if leaning down to look at them. Applejack experimentally trotted forward and was pleased to find that the rain was blocked by most of the trees and branches. A portion of the rain drops got through anyway, but it was much less than before. She could distantly hear the hoot of an owl, somewhere far above her head. Her hooves didn’t sink much when she walked, so the mud must be more densely packed as well
“Alright, we’re going in.”
And in they went, carefully traversing the aged road while lightning and rain fell from the heavens above. The trees seemed to grow more wild and frequent as time passed them by, and Applejack often found herself ducking to avoid a leafy arm. They passed by the trails of deer and foxes sometimes, and often heard a squirrel darting across a branch or another owl hooting into the rainy night. It was a wonder why so many animals were moving about in this kind of weather, but at least they wouldn’t be causing any trouble. The constant noise of animals blended into the ambience of the downpour as well. So that was nice.
"Aw, look Applejack!" Her sister got her attention by pointing to a stream they passed by on the road. A small family of ducks were chatting with each other in single file, with the mother at the head and the babies following behind. "Ain't they just the cutest?"
"Sure are." Applejack idly watched the ducks shelter beneath s large leaf from a nearby bush, huddling to conserve warmth. The earth pony cash a cheeky grin behind her. "Does this place still scare ya now?"
Applebloom sighed. "I'm not scared. I'm creeped out."
In a way, she was sad that it was raining with such a dark sky. Applejack would have loved to see the forest in full color, even in the pale glow of Luna’s pretty moon. No doubt it was a place floundering with life, both plant and animal combined. She could mentally picture a dark green landscape with towers of light brown carrying leafy arms on their shoulders, carefully catching sunlight as it rained down from above. A crystal clear stream ran in the midst of the peace and the mud banks were as smooth as paper, undisturbed by hooves.
Applejack made a carefree right turn in the midst of a grassy clearing. That old Granny Smith was playing tricks on her after all! Oh. It’s a scary forest because Ponies went missing! Ooooh! It clearly wasn’t dangerous, especially after all these years without any pony visitors to scare the critters. Nature was left to thrive in the absence of paranoid equines, and animals lived here, after all. There’s no logical explanation for why ponies would be the only ones to disappear in a place like this, where life clearly exists. Yes, Granny Smith was a real hoot. Villages couldn’t picked off so easily, not if the townsfolk fought back. Or if they used this nice road to flee...Hmm. Maybe it was just her, but the road seemed a little thinner now than it was before.
“Applejack.”
The earth pony slowed, but didn’t stop. A fourth of a second after an owl hooted again, Applejack looked back at the cart. “Hmm?”
“Look,” Applebloom continued in a strained whisper, pointing a small hoof out to her far left, above the sounds of tall grass being hit by water. “Somethin’ just moved out there.”
Oh great--now she had to deal with this nonsense. “Applebloom, I’m not in the mood for your silly little pranks. Ain’t nothin’ out there but your wild imagination or the wind, ya hear?”
“Yeah but, it looked--”
“Ya hear?”
“...Yes, sis.”
Snorting in irritated content, Applejack pressed onwards. It didn’t take long for something to distract her from her little sister’s absurd worrying; a slightly inclined hill doubled the effort to walk with the weight of the wagon. She trotted slower now as she traveled up the rainy slope, using more muscles to yank her hooves out of the cold clay ground. The wagon’s wheels often locked in place due to the lack of friction, but it still moved all the same. Thunder vibrated the small hill as she passed the halfway, and Applebloom said something in the loud echo. Irritated again, she looked back. ‘What now?”
Applebloom ducked her head, forlorn ears flattening against her head. “I was sayin I’m sorry, Applejack. I just really thought I saw somethin’. Really.”
Annoyance turned to guilt on Applejack’s end. Perhaps it was wrong to snap like that or think Applebloom would prank her in this forest. “Aw, It’s fine, sugarcube. I was a little too harsh on ya about that. “ She gave a stern nod. ‘But you know that being afraid is no good. There’s really nothing to fear out here. Nothing to fear at all.”
Applebloom nodded in return. “I know. I guess I just saw a fox.”
“Exactly. Now you just hold on back there and we’ll be home before you can say--wOOoOOAH!”
In the middle of her walking, her hoof suddenly hit empty air and her body followed through with the momentum. She fell in a half controlled slide down a slick, muddy hill at least 12 hooves high and dragged the old cart with her, startled sister and all. Rainwater had collected by the gallons at the base of the sheer hill, a large pond that could have a stallion up to his knees. Applejack somehow managed to scramble forward when her hooves hit the water and unstable earth and quickly prevented the cart from flipping upside down. It creaked loudly, almost cracking, when it landed hard on the ground. Aside from sinking a little into the muddy water, the wagon and its wheels seemed fine.
That was more than she could say for Applebloom, who looked like a cat startled into losing four of its lives. She clung to one side of the wagon and relaxed her grip when it was apparent that the construct wasn't breaking apart. Applejack hardly felt any different than the filly; her heartbeat had taken a second or two before it started back up again, and sweat mixed with cold rainwater. She shuddered but shrugged it off. “Er, you okay there, Applebloom?”
Her little passenger shook off the water soaking into her fur and nodded. Her calmed expression zipped away when she took stock of their surroundings. “Did we just go off the road?!”
Applejack froze but regained her composure. “Nah, Sugarcube. Might have been a landslide that caused this cliff, but the road has to be around here somewhere. Applejack huffed and puffed to get the cart moving out of the water, to get out enough for her to see anything. Just in front of them, she could make out a cleared path even thinner than before, just barely the width of the wagon. “See, there it is!”
Applebloom didn’t look or sound convinced by this. “That’s way thinner than before! You musta gone off the road!”
“Applebloom, I may not have been payin attention to the cliff, but I was looking at the road.” Applejack pointed to where they had fallen from. Water poured from the edge like a miniature waterfall, and the mare distantly wondered if the rain had gotten worse. “And it leads right down here.”
Applebloom only offered her a worried look, so the earth pony continued down the narrow path. There were a lot more trees now than before, so at least they were kept from being completely wet. The lantern cast a ghastly glow on the darkest corners of the forest but failed to show anything but darkness. Applejack plodded along the road with nary a nagging thought at first, listening to the comforting sounds of the rain and letting everything else fade.
But why was the road so narrow now? Applejack furrowed her brow at the width of the path; it was so thin that a few more inches would have her walking completely off of it. Twigs and leaves and other such things bordered the path and even littered it occasionally, creating a dull crunch whenever she stepped on something. Applejack would have shrugged off the doubt welling inside like a stubborn mule, but a voice behind her coaxed them away anyway.
“Applejack?”
“Yes…?”
“Listen.”
The earth pony obeyed, blinking. “...uh, I don't hear nothin’ but the rain.”
“Exactly. Why is it so quiet?”
Applejack started to ask what she meant by that, but the answer came to her beforehand. She recalled that there had always been some kind of sound or sign of life in the forest, from owls to ducks quacking as they traveled. But ever since they started up the hill, things had gone quiet. No hooting, no quacks, no flapping, no nothing. If it wasn't for the rain, the silence would be deafening. That, or the darkness, which seemed much stronger here than before. The fat, leaning trees overhead blocked most of the light from lightning and made things pitch black around them. The lantern could only glow so far ahead of them; four hooves at max.
Working her jaws, Applejack finally answered. “I don't know, but it can’t be anything bad. The weather might be getting to--”
Applejack slowed to a halt as something strong wafted through the air to her nose, and she gagged. It was easily the worst stench she’d ever had the displeasure of smelling, outranking the many things she’d smelled in her time. It was the smell of rotting things, left to cook in the sun and half buried in the dirt. The buzz of flies could be heard, but none approached the lantern or the ponies; perhaps out of fear of the rain.
It wasn’t long before Applebloom wheezed as well. “Hoo-Whee! That smells awful!”
“Sure does, doesn’t it?”
Against her judgment, Applejack swung the lantern around to see if she could spot the cause of the terrible rotting smell. The darkness was thick, but angling the light gave her limited sight of things. They were on the edge of a slope down on the right side, while the left side of the path seemed to slope up somewhere. She turned the light back to the downward slope and curiously looked over the grassy side. Nothing unusual; just a few rocks, some of them a mottled white. She peered closer at a particularly odd-shaped white rock--it seemed to have a perfectly carved hole, hollowing out the inside.
No, two holes and an odd pair of holes beneath that could have resembled nasal passages. If Applejack didn't know any better, she’d say it was a pony skull.
The mare shuddered.
Realization hit her in the belly and made her feel queasy, nervous and fearful in the same breath. What was a skull--a pony skull-- doing in this forest? This was...Granny’s stories couldn't have been true, could they? Her stories took place hundreds of years ago, so a skull being this intact wouldn't make sense...unless…
Applejack swallowed, her legs quivering just the slightest. “Maybe you’re right, Applebloom. I must’ve...gone off the road. Maybe we’ll head back.” Silence agreed with her. “Sugarcube?”
When she turned, Applebloom was staring at something on the ground near the cart, eyes wide and glossy. Applejack followed her line of sight and swiftly jerked the cart away from the red-stained skeletal pieces there. She offered the most comforting look she could at the moment, given the circumstances. “Don’t look at it, Applebloom!”
The filly looked as though as she had been shaken out of a daydream, a particularly scary one. She nestled against the front of the cart, the closest part to Applejack, and shivered. “I don't like this! I don't want to be in here anymore!” She whimpered aloud.
“Don’t worry!” Applejack turned halfway in the road, pushing the cart with great effort. “We’re turni--”
“Teeheeeheeee!”
The forest became silent again, save for the rain. Applejack blinked and looked down at the filly with dread. “...Applebloom?”
The filly’s eyes were wide as she whispered. “That wasn't me.”
